


there's a change gonna come

by orphan_account



Series: we're on a quick, sick rampage [11]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bitty abuse, Broken Bones, Other, Transformation, can you tell I hate Edgies? because I hate Edgies, past bitty death, shock collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 04:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: With the proper stimuli, a mean, nasty Edgy bitty can be made... different. Better.Your job was to set that process in motion.





	there's a change gonna come

**Author's Note:**

> So this one is my half of a story/art trade with qq-boi on Twitter! I hope you like it (I'm always up for messing with an Edgy, so you had me hooked).

The Edgy bitty banged against the walls of the opaque plastic container, and you rolled your eyes for not the first time that day. You could hear muffled curses from inside, and pulled on your metal-reinforced gloves in preparation. You opened the lid, secure in the knowledge that the table’s edges would trigger the bitty’s shock collar, and upended the box. The Edgy bounced out, skidding along the sterile surface, and glared up at you. He snapped his teeth a couple times and growled, but you weren’t worried. This was not your first rodeo.  
  
“So, Edgy, do you know why you’re here?” you asked, almost boredly.  
  
“Bitch! Take this collar off of me and let me go!” the bitty shouted, unsurprisingly. You maintained a neutral expression.  
  
“Well, that’s not going to happen. Since you’re not bright enough to answer a direct question, I’ll just tell you. You’re here because your owner...” and here you glanced at the file near you, “Anna, brought you to me for some... reconditioning.”  
  
“W-what? You’re lyin’!” Edgy insisted. You called them all Edgy. It wasn’t worth finding out whatever idiotic name their owner had provided, and it had the added effect of making them feel like their identity didn't matter. It didn't, but most of them weren't ready to accept that.  
  
“No, actually, I’m not.” You gave a small smile. “She was unhappy with your behavior, so you’re here to become a better bitty!” Your voice was kindergarten-teacher sweet.  
  
“You're lying! She wouldn’t do that! Momma said... she said she liked me just how I was!” The bitty was getting red in the face, and you mentally fist-pumped. Starting with the owner’s betrayal was your favorite move.  
  
“You can believe whatever you want, but the fact is that she put you in that box and brought you to me,” you replied. “Why would she have done that if she liked you? Doesn't it make more sense that she wanted you to change?”  
  
“Fuck you, human cunt!” the Edgy said by way of response, throwing himself at the table’s edge (probably to attack), and earning himself a painful shock as you pushed him back.  
  
“That’s what will happen if you don’t listen, or if you try to get off this table,” you said. “I’ll say it again. You’re here because your owner wants you to be a better bitty. One that won’t bite her, or call her bitch and cunt, or break her things for fun.” You saw the bitty’s glare waver just a bit, internally acknowledging that he had done most, if not all, of those things. They were easy assumptions to make, with this type. “She wants a bitty that she can take out with friends, or on errands, and not have to worry about getting sued when you attack someone.” The Edgy’s expression fell further, and he looked at the laces of his tiny sneakers. You knew you had him.  
  
“You— you’re wrong! She wants me, she wants an Edgy! She picked me!” You could hear something choked and hesitant in the bitty’s voice, an excellent sign. He was vulnerable and feeling insecure.  
  
“She probably picked you because you were cheap. No one really wants an Edgy,” you explained, and then pressed the button to activate the shock collar on its highest setting.  
  
“Owww! What the fuck!” the Edgy in question yowled, jumping from the table’s surface. “What was that for?!”  
  
“See, what we’re going to do today,” you continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “is make some changes. You’re going to hurt, and you’re going to cry, and you’re going to become a pet that’s safe for Anna to be around.” You hit the button again and held it, watching the Edgy clench his teeth, shake, and fall to his knees. Oh, he’d wet himself. That was okay, he’d get new clothes when you were done. The bitty pulled himself to his feet once more, but panted like he’d run a long way.  
  
“Shut up...” he gritted out.  
  
“You’re the worst kind of bitty there is,” you said, and shocked him again, briefly.  “You made Anna’s life miserable.” Another short jolt of electricity, straight down his spinal cord.  
  
“Stop it...” the bitty panted, hugging himself as if to comfort his own body from the pain.  
  
“As you are, you’re fit for a dog toy and not much else,” you continued, “and deep down, you know it.” The Edgy fell to his knees in his own puddle of magic waste, quaking hard.  
  
“Fuck... you...” he labored out. You held the button down extra long, just for his rudeness.  
  
“You’re trash, Edgy. You’re garbage in the shape of a skeleton, and your precious Mommy knew that. She doesn’t want you. No one wants you. No one wants a trash pet that does nothing but hurt people and ruin things.” Now you were getting somewhere. The shock you punctuated that statement with jerked the bitty’s tiny body around, but he didn’t make a peep.  
  
“You’re worthless,” you pressed on, “and I want you to know...” You took your hand off the remote. Edgy looked up at you in the brief respite from the pain, eyes glistening and breathing labored. A telltale flush was beginning to appear on his little cheekbones. “Do you know what Anna told me when she left you here?”  
  
The bitty shook his head and let out a small sniffle.  
  
You had to really try to restrain your smile. It was time for the grand finale. “She told me that if I couldn’t make you into a good bitty, I should put you in this grinder and crush every single one of your worthless bones,” you finished, pulling a spice grinder from under the table.  
  
Edgy finally broke, tears leaking from his eyes and a wail escaping his mouth between sharp teeth. “N-n-no, please, please, don’t kill me—“ and here he let out a sharp scream, because you’d reached out and snapped his right leg nearly in two at the shin. That final hit of terrible pain had done it. The bitty cried and cried, rolling around on the table and generally making a mess of himself for a good five minutes, before he seemed to come to. You let him cry himself out, and then prodded him with a gloved finger to make him look up. A raspberry-colored blush seemed to permanently adorn his face, and his eyes were watery and afraid.  
  
“Who are you?” you asked, clasping your hands behind your back. The bitty didn't answer immediately, and you tapped the shock button again.

"Owieeee!" the bitty shouted, tears just short of torrenting from his eye sockets.

"Who are you, bitty?" you asked again.

  
“Ch-Cherry, I’m... Cherry,” the bitty said, snuffling and clutching his broken leg. He accidentally jostled the appendage, and let out a yelp and a few more tears.  
  
“Good boy, Cherry, this is exactly what I wanted,” you answered. “This is much better.” You reached beneath the table again, pulling out a piece of monster food and handing it to the trembling skeleton. He swallowed it hesitantly, and the broken bones of his leg fused back together. The hard part was over, now, and so was your job. They didn't all break this easily, but Edgy-now-Cherry #27 of the day had been particularly susceptible to owner-related prodding.  
  
Next, he would go to the grooming area to have those sharp teeth blunted, and then to the sales department to be cleaned up and given soft new clothes (no more “punk” image; the idea was cuddly and cozy). He would be the perfect bitty for any family. Your work was done, and you again marveled that you got paid to do this.  
  
See, you didn’t just do this for fun, or because Anna had asked you to (although she had, technically). When Bitty Buddies, Inc. had had enough of lawsuits involving Edgies biting people, and the courts had declared said bites a matter of strict liability, the company had decided the Edgy style was more money trouble than it was worth. They had recalled the entire line, promising massive payouts to those that turned theirs in, which most owners were glad to do. For those that didn’t want to give their bitty up for cash, Bitty Buddies had found another option— a way to make a nasty, chompy Edgy into something different, kinder, safer for children and adults alike.  
  
With enough emotional and physical pain combined, an Edgy could be transformed into a Cherry. Much more placid, much less likely to cause property damage, and best of all— no more bitty bite settlements. Cherries were anxious, needy, prone to tears; in short, they were annoying in a way that at least wouldn’t get anyone sued. You had to believe there were very few Edgies left in the world that would remain so; by Bitty Buddies's calculations, 70% of Edgies had been turned in for destruction and a fat check, while 25% had been sent to facilities just like yours to have their uglier traits stripped away. The owners were told that the process was easy and painless, a matter of flipping a switch in the brain. That was only half true, but the partial amnesia brought on by the switch and the company's monster healing methods made it seem true to anyone on the outside.

Making the change, flipping that switch? That’s where you came in. The little bastards deserved it, you thought with a wince, thinking of the pet Edgy whose bite had severed your baby sister’s index finger. _Thinking of how kind your family had been to him, to "Spike," thinking of the toys and clothes you'd bought in anticipation of a long and happy life with him, thinking of your sister's screams when she recoiled from trying to hold him for the first time. Thinking of how your father had put him down that same day, smashed under his heavy work boot on the outside patio._  
  
The newly-minted Cherry on the table stared up at you with wide, teary eyes. “Am I your bitty?” he asked, raising his arms as if to ask you to hold him.  
  
“No,” you answered, “but you’ll be going home soon.” You used the walkie-talkie at your hip to inform the gofers that this ex-Edgy was ready for the next stage in his Cherryfication, and waved with one finger as they took him away in the box from whence he came.  
  
A minute later, a new worker came in, and a new box was placed on your (now clean) table. You heard struggles from inside, and sighed. Even torturing these evil little assholes, as much as you liked it, became work when you did it all day long.  
  
You unlatched the container’s lid, dumped the contents out onto the table, and took a deep breath. “So, Edgy, do you know why you’re here?”  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and reviews are what keep me going, so every one is valued. Please let me know if you have any ideas for this sort of story in the future!


End file.
